


Tabakskollegium

by writeranthea



Series: Les Illustrations du Marquis de Sade [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caning, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Figging, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Public Humiliation, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scene Gone Wrong, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: "Maybe I ought to whip you during a meeting of my Tabakskollegium, I am certain that they would love to watch."Follows the events ofThe Cane-Wielding King.
Relationships: Friedrich Wilhelm I von Preußen | Frederick William I of Prussia/Marquis de Sade, Friedrich Wilhelm von Grumbkow/Friedrich Wilhelm von Preußen | Frederick William I of Prussia
Series: Les Illustrations du Marquis de Sade [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554694
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

**1737**

It had taken Donatien’s skin nearly three days to heal enough for him to wear more than just his undergarnments without being in pain. Too much pain, that was. Considering how thoroughly Friedrich Wilhelm had caned him, with an expertise that Donatien had not expected in his wildest daydreams, it had been of no surprise to the young frenchman. What had surprised him, however, had been the way that the Prussian king had begun to pay attention to him after the evening during which Donatien had sunk to his knees to show that he was worthy of being kept and had not put up a fight when he had been bent over the desk in the royal study. _“Look at me, boy.” Friedrich Wilhelm had put a finger underneath his chin to prevent him from looking away. “You did good.”_

It had been the words that Donatien’s mind had repeated in a constant loop once Friedrich Wilhelm had left his guest room. _“_ _Good boy.”_ While it would have been a lie if he would have said that he had not been utterly overwhelmed by the events that had taken place, that had left him sore in more than one way, Donatien had known that it had been what he had wanted. Those minutes that he had spend on his knees and bend over the writing desk had been what he had yearned for in every single engagement that he had been involved with. _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time._ He had found sleep rather fast after Friedrich Wilhelm had put the salve onto his burning and throbbing backside, though Donatien had found himself gasping and wiping unwanted tears from his eyes when he had tried to roll over onto his back the following morning. He had terribly underestimated how much it would hurt - compared to his backside _,_ the pain of the littered bruises on his face had been nothing.

_He did not really have the time to react before he had been covered with the blanket that he had kicked down._ _“Stay under them, I do not want you to catch a cold.”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

_Friedrich Wilhelm had nodded and had stood, “I will come to see you tomorrow and you better not be out of bed when I do so.”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

With the king’s words clear in mind, Donatien had made sure that the door to his guest room had been locked before he had set the covers that he had been wrapped in aside and had walked over to the mirror. A gasp had escaped him when he had seen in just what a condition his backside had been in. While the salve had apparently prevented the skin to break any further and had thus hindered it from peeling, it had not taken away the angry red with which the perfectly parallel cane marks had crossed his ass and the back of his thighs. He had dared to touch them, but even the feathery touch of his own fingertips had send a bright flash of pain up him spine and so he had merely unlocked the door, had drunk a few quick sips of wine and had retreated back to bed. Other than slipping in and out of a light sleep, Donatien had spend the forenoon and midday in boredom.

_“I will come to see you tomorrow.”_

What Friedrich Wilhelm had meant with tomorrow, he had not known, and while he had been buzzing with anticipation and even a bit of dread, he had failed to suppress the part of his mind that had been curious about how far much could push the Prussian until it would result in one of the punishments that he had yearned for - once his backside would have healed, of course. Donatien had not even wanted to imagine how bad a spanking on top of his sore skin would feel like. While Friedrich Wilhelm had reeled back on his own promise, or rather his threat of delivering the remaining seventeen lashes with the cane that day, the young frenchman had found himself willing to test his boundaries.

He had no idea what the evening had changed between them, if it had even changed anything, and since he had been very well aware of how fast a king could exchange the object of his affection and favour, Donatien had been gettling less and less enthusiastic about the _engagement_ the longer the afternoon had dragged out to be. He had no idea what he had to expect from the king of Prussia who had been so notorious for his fits of rage and his brutality which had both come second to no other monarch’s. That he had been breaking his mind over most unnecessarily, he had known, but Donatien had been so bored that he had done it nonetheless and had, when Friedrich Wilhelm had not come to visit him by the time the clock had struck five o’clock in the afternoon, rolled off the bed to dress himself. It would not be to his liking to spend an entire day in solitude and his stomach had since made itself known through a rather annoying grumble. He had, after all, missed dinner, breakfast _and_ lunch due to lying in bed with a sore backside.

Luck had not been on his side, though Donatien would later tell himself that it _had_ been luck that had struck when he had just finished pulling up his breeches over his backside with a sharp gasp when a rapid knock had disturbed him. Whoever had knocked had not waited for a permission to answer, and he had thus already known that it had to be Friedrich Wilhelm before he had turned to face the door. The look of anger on the king of Prussia’s face had made him swallow. “What do you think you are doing, boy?” 

“I-I was just-”

Friedrich Wilhelm’s right hand had shot out and had smacked him across the face before he could have finished his stuttered apology with such a force that it had caused Donatien to stumble a few steps to his right. “It was an order when I told you that I do not want to see you out of bed!”

The young marquis was then roughly grabbed by a fistful of his hair, tearing a strangled gasp from his throat. “I am sorry Sir,” he had hurried to bring out, his heart racing due to a mixture of fear and arousal as Friedrich Wilhelm had merely stared at him with narrowed eyes, and had tried to ignore the twitching in his trousers when he was dragged over to the bed by the hand in his hair.

“I _demand_ ,” the king of Prussia had pressed out through his teeth as he had thrown Donatien onto the mattress as if he had weighed nothing, “that my orders are followed by you, boy. Was I not being clear yesterday?”

“Sir, I-” Donatien had been cut off when three hits had landed on the seat of his trousers, hard enough to cause the cane marks to sting and throb even more agonising as well as to rob him of his breath. His entire body had gone rigid and he had, when Friedrich Wilhelm had repeated the action, mewled and whined quite pathetically. _It had hurt!_

“I expect an apology for your disobedience, boy.”

“I am sorry, Sir. I am really sorry.”

“Get up.” Donatien had only noticed that tears had burned in his eyes as he had scrambled to get back onto his feet, and he had failed to suppress a flinch when he had felt the Prussian’s finger underneath his chin, forcing him to look up with a blurred vision. “I would whip you if you were not already hurt. Consider yourself _lucky_ , boy.”

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to stay still. The prospect that he might have lost the king’s favour with his unruly behaviour had been a horrible one, for he had believed to have found the salvation for his desires in the Prussian. “I am sorry, Sir. I am, I merely...” 

“You what?”

“I was... feeling quite hungry, Sir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm had huffed and had removed his finger, returning his hand to the belt around his waist. “When did you last eat, boy?”

“Yesterday, Sir. I-I wanted to-”

“Hush,” Donatien had been cut off and he had obeyed within an instant. He certainly had not wanted another taste of the king’s ruthless hand upon his sore skin. “You shall accompany me to my next meal. Yes, I think that it would be appropriate. I cannot have you go around without food.”

When his face had lit up, it had not only been due to the hit that he had received earlier. “I do not think that I can sit down, Sir.”

“What did you say, boy?”

His hope of his whispered confession being heard had been disappointed. “I... do not think that I can sit down, Sir.”

The smile that had grown on the king of Prussia’s face had not only been a wide one, but laced with what Donatien had believed to have been an almost predatory intention. “Is that so? I shall take a look, then.” Friedrich Wilhelm had pointed to the bed with his cane, “Undress and bend over the edge, boy.”

“Yes Sir.”

The French had bitten his bottom lip as he had opened the fly of his breeches and had pulled them, together with his underwear, down to his knees before he had draped himself into the wished position. He had hidden his face in his crossed arms as he had heard how the Prussian had taken almost teasingly slow steps into his direction, the sound of his heels on the wooden floor resounding quite aloud.

“Such a pretty little ass.” Unsure whether Friedrich Wilhelm had spoken at him or to himself, Donatien had remained quiet and had tried to keep himself from flinching when the king’s fingers brushed over the welts that the cane had left behind. “A shame that you seem to require a hard hand, boy.”

“Sir...”

“But I will teach you your _manners_ , boy, do not worry.” Whether he had gasped due to the words or the pat that Friedrich Wilhelm had ended his short speech which, he had not known. “I will keep you and if you have troubles adapting to my requisitions I will not hesitate to beat you until you do.” Donatien had moaned at that, involuntarily giving his hips a little shake that had earned him another smack. “I see that we will have a lot of fun with each other, boy.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I want you undressed by the time that I come back.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy.”

His heart had somersaulted like it did every time that he heard said praise from the king of Prussia’s mouth, and the fact that it was him who had the priviledge of hearing it had done nothing calm his heart. That his cock had since stiffened, Donatien had tried to blend out, and Friedrich Wilhelm had patted his ass once more before he had turned and left. _“I want you undressed by the time that I come back.”_ With a sound that had stood somewhere between a groan and a moan he had risen back onto his feet to free himself of his garments. His cock had since come full to life, flagging and bouncing softly as he had bend down to pick his trousers of the ground. It surely would not have been appreciated it he would have left them lying around. The young French marquis had been utterly embarassed as he had stood in his guestroom, _naked_ and awaiting the king’s return.

 _Would he fuck him upon his return?_ He had only gotten to feel his fingers yet and he had been excited to feel the cock that he had only sucked on before but he had felt much less self-confident than he had been the prior evening. With a stark red face and a stomach turning over from nervousness rather than hunger, Donatien had crawled onto the bed and had laid down, pulling the covers around himself and hoping that his subtile act of submission would appease the Prussian king.

He had not needed to wait for long; Friedrich Wilhelm had returned after no more than a few minutes, carrying a tray and appearing a bit less enraged than he had been earlier. “I cannot have my favourite boy going without any food now, can I?”

Feeling his face heat up even further, the frenchman had shaken his head and had answered with a low “No, Sir”, suddenly rather thankful that he had been forced to lie on his stomach. If his arousal would become noticeable, it surely would bring him a great deal of embarrassment.

“Here, boy.” Friedrich Wilhelm had set the tray down on the mattress beside Donatien’s head and had run his fingers through the younger man’s curls just once before

“Thank you, Sir.” The _Sir_ s had passed over his lips as if they were nothing, as if he could not have imagined to address the other any differently.

“Eat.” The king of Prussia had retrieved the chair from behind the writing desk of the bedroom in the time that Donatien had looked at the food in front of him rather lost in his thoughts.

“Yes Sir.” Hyperaware of the presence beside him, he had picked up a piece of meat pie.

Friedrich Wilhelm had watched him for a good few moments before he had addressed him. “Boy?”

Donatien had swallowed before he had answered with an almost sheepish tone. “Yes, Sir?”

The Prussian had shifted in his seat so that he, with his elbows propped up on his knees, could lean as close as possible to the younger man without having to stand up. “I think that we might need to have a little talk.”

“A-About what, Sir?”

“Whether you changed your mind or not.”

Donatien had known that his eyes had been wide as he had turned his face towards the king who had been so notorious in Europe for all but the right reasons. “Change my mind?” Friedrich Wilhelm had simply continued to look down on him as if he not wanted to miss the slightest bit of Donatien’s reaction. His eyes had widened even more when he had finally caught on to what Friedrich Wilhelm had meant. “No, Sir,” he had hurried to answer, stumbling over his words, “I did not change my mind and I promise that I will not-” He had been cut off when the king of Prussia’s laugh had resounded through the room, causing the blush on his cheeks to intensify, and he had averted his gaze back down onto the food in front of him.

“It is what I hoped to hear, boy.” Considering that he had dropped onto his knees in front of Friedrich Wilhelm, Donatien should not have been as embarrassed as he had been in that very moment but he had not managed to keep his face from heating up. “For I would be more than delighted to keep you for myself.”

It would have sounded strange, alarming even if it would have come from anyone else - but from Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia those words had been everything that the young marquis had yearned to hear. “Yes Sir.”

“I have rules that you ought to follow if you do not want to end up with a backside that will never have a chance to heal. Are you listening, boy?” 

“Yes Sir, I am listening.” Donatien had still refused to look at the older man, and he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he had looked into the glass that he had picked up.

“When I say that I want you to be mine, I mean it in every aspect,” the king had went one, his voice nearly as cold as it had been when he had asked Donatien as for why he had not appeared to the audience. It had meant that there was absolutely no room for negotiations, but the young frenchman had been more than fine with it. “If I catch you showing off your pretty little ass like you did it before, I will whip you until you will beg me to stop. Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“I will do the same if I catch you batting your eyelashed or looking at anyone but me with those doe eyes of yours, boy. I know that there are many who would wish themselves in my place.” Friedrich Wilhelm had stood from the chair and had driven his left hand into Donatien’s hair, not gentle but not as roughly as he had done it before, to tilt the younger man’s head back, leaving him with no other choice than to meet the Prussian’s gaze. He had whimpered and had slowly dragged his lip through his lips in a way that he had known had been shamelessly lewd, causing the corners Friedrich Wilhelm’s to twitch into a smile. “You would like that, would you not, boy? To be claimed in front of those that want your pretty little ass for themselves? Who would like little more than to fuck your throat like I did it?” Donatien’s breath had hitched when the hand in his hair had tightened its hold. “ _Would you not?_ ”

“Yes Sir, oh...” He had barely finished his whispered answer before his lips had been claimed in a rough kiss and his mouth had been invaded by a hard, demanding tongue. The king of Prussia had suddenly been towering over him, having turned him onto his back before he had even realised it. Donatien had gasped into the kiss when his sore backside had come in touch with the mattress, his cock having come back to life notwithstanding the pain as he had twitched his hips in order to ease the discomfort. The movement had caused the covers to slip down until they had been pooling around his waist and the young marquis had felt strangely at ease with being nearly fully naked while Friedrich Wilhelm had been dressed in his court attire. The king’s hand had wandered from his hair to get a hold of his throat instead, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure as Friedrich Wilhelm had claimed his mouth. Everything that was done to him, Donatien had realised, had been meant to show that he had been claimed by no other than the king of Prussia. “Sir-”

“Who do you belong to, boy?”, had been growled into his ear.

He had not even tried to stiffle the broken moan that escaped him. “You, Sir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm had kissed him again before he had let go of his throat with another to move back over to the chair and open the fly of his trousers while Donatien had tried to regain his composure. “Come here then, boy. I want you on your knees and my cock in your mouth.” He had not needed to be told twice, and the smirk that had grown on the king’s face had told him that he had expected to be met with arousal. Friedrich Wilhelm had smirked down at him as he had spread his legs in unmistakable expectancy, allowing Donatien to crawl between them. “If you do it good, boy, I will fuck you afterwards.”

The hand in his hair had returned, combing through it once before gripping onto a handful of his curls. _Claimed_. He had kept his gaze casted upwards as he had reached inside the Prussian’s trousers, and a grin had grown on his face at the twitch that Friedrich Wilhelm’s hips gave after he had closed his fingers around the hardening cock to pull it free. It had not taken more than a few tugs with his hand until it had stood in nearly all of its glory. Thick, throbbing and with a pink had that Donatien had longed to tease with the tip of his tongue, latter which he had done after having traced a vein along the underside of the king of Prussia’s cock. His heart had somersaulted at the strangled gasp that it had torn from Friedrich Wilhelm’s throat and Donatien had forced his eyes to stay open as he had grabbed the cock by its base to lay it against his lips, letting it linger there for a few seconds.

It had earned him a rather light-handed smack onto the sore one of his cheeks. “Be a good little slut.”

With the blush on his cheeks intensifying, the French had whispered a “Yes Sir” against the sensitive head of the cock before he had closed his lips around it.

“That is it, slut, that is it. _Good boy_.”

Donatien’s heart had soared at the purred praise that he had received, and he had hummed as he had slackened his jaw to take as much of the cock as possible down his throat in one single bob of his head. The king had growled at that, using the hold he had on the frenchman’s hair to pull him down until the entity of the cock had disappeared behind his lips. Donatien had kept it in until he need for air had forced him to pull off, threads of spit hanging between his lips and Friedrich Wilhelm’s cock, and he had taken a moment to appreciate the sight of its glistering head before he had swirled his tongue around it and had repeated the action of swallowing it to the hilt. He had not dared to touch his own cock, had instead braced his hands against the insides of the Prussian’s thighs. One could have believed that it had been him who had been in power. Donatien never would have dared to think so. 

Even though it had been him who had decided the pace, the hand that had kept a steady grip in his hair had left no room for negotiations. If Friedrich Wilhelm would have desired it, he simply could have used said grip to fuck Donatien’s throat like he had done it the day before, and God had known that he would have liked it. The king of Prussia’s hips had since begun to twitch more roughly, telling them both that he had been close. Donatien had been pulled off before he could have brought him over the edge. “I still want to fuck you, slut,” Friedrich Wilhelm had growled as he had brushed his thumb over the marquis’ plush and spit-slick lips, watching how Donatien had sucked on the tip, “ _properly_ this time.”

“Please-”

“Your manners, boy.”

“Please, _Sir_.”

The same predatory smile as before had shown itself on the Prussian’s face, a smile that Donatien had known had solely been destined for him. “You are in desperate need of another attitude adjustment, are you not, boy? It is a shame that your ass it not healed yet.” He had bit the tip of Friedrich Wilhelm’s thumb, not too hard, of course, as Friedrich Wilhelm had moved to pull it away. “I fear that I have to come back to the threat that made you so compliant yesterday.” That the notorious king of Prussia had not sounded sorry at all had been of no surprise to Donatien.

“Which one, Sir?” A gasp had escaped him when he had been lead over to the bed by the hand in his hair and positioned on a stack of pillow, that Friedrich Wilhelm had set up, as if he had indeed been nothing but the royal harlot. The young marquis had groaned, had arched his back and had gasped in surprise when a slick finger had suddenly seeked its way in between his cheeks. He had not noticed how Friedrich Wilhelm had slicked up two fingers of his right hand. “Sir-” 

The finger had circled his puckered muscle, not yet pushing in. “I shall do it once your pretty ass is healed. I do not want to ruin it.” Donatien had suppressed a moan when the first finger had pushed into him with one determined thrust. “I may be cruel,” the Prussian had muttered, so low that it nearly had gone by unheard, “but I am not a monster.”

He had not known what to make out of those words, and had simply moaned when the second finger had soon joined the first to scissor him open. “S-Sir.”

“Have you ever heard yourself, boy? The sounds that you make? You are such a _slut_ for me. I would be damned if I would not keep you _all for myself_.”

The king of Prussia had accentuated the last three words with hard, skilled rubs over Donatien’s sensitive spot that had made him cry out in delight and push his hips back onto the digits. “I am ready Sir, _please..._ ”

“Eager, are we not?” Friedrich Wilhelm had let out a cold laugh as he had pulled his oil-slick fingers out with an obscene squelch and had patted one of Donatien’s backside cheeks rather harshly. “Tell me that you are eager for my cock, slut.”

“I-I am eager for your cock, Sir.” Oh and eager he had been ever since he had dropped to his knees to take the king’s cock into his mouth, his own cock had since begun to leak pre-cum onto the pillow that it had been pressed against and the words that had left him had been nothing but a whined plea. “ _Please._ ”

Friedrich Wilhelm had stepped back and before Donatien could have thought that the Prussian had changed his mind, the length of the then lubed cock had been pressed into the cleft of his ass. “Consider yourself special, boy,” the king had grunted, digging the fingers of one hand into the marquis’ hips while he had used the other to align the head of his cock with Donatien’s opening, “I only ever chose one to fuck before I chose you.” 

Donatien’s world had come to a stop after Friedrich Wilhelm had pushed into him with one hard, demanding thrust until his ass had been pressed agains the older man’s pelvis. The pressure had triggered a bright flash of pain - which had only increased the tension in his lower stomach. The cock had filled him out perfectly, widening his muscle in a way that had just brushed borders with pain. He had let out the pent-up breath when one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s hands had come to rest in the space between his shoulder blades, grounding and comforting him at the same time. If the king of Prussia would have been as cruel as the people around him had judged him to have been, he could have simply fucked into him without taking any consideration for his well-being and Donatien’s chest had clenched when he had realised that the touch had been meant to comfort him. His breath had hitched, a tiny little sound that he had brough out together with a whispered “Sir” when the hand had wandered up into his hair while the cock inside him had shifted.

“Breathe, boy.” Donatien had nodded and had obeyed, forcing his muscles to relax. It had, after all, been quite a while since he had been on the receiving end of such _ruthless_ , albeit very much desired, attention. Once he had caught himself again, he had signalled it with a nod. The Prussian’s behaviour had reversed at it. He had grabbed a handful of Donatien’s curls, forcing the frenchman’s neck into an obscene curve by tugging at it, as he had pulled back until only the very tip of his cock had remained inside the young marquis. “You better get used to this, _slut_ ,” had been growled into the frenchman’s ear, “as I plan to do it _every_ day.”

Donatien had cried out when Friedrich Wilhelm had snapped his hips forward and had buried his cock in him. Neither of them had spoken as Donatien had allowed himself to be fucked in a way that he had never experienced it before. The king of Prussia had fucked him like he had caned him the prior evening - hard, ruthless and just how the young marquise had desperately wanted it for years. _Dark and brooding, waiting for the right time to cause an eruption that I will never be able to control._ He had no longer thought about his return to Paris, for he had thought to have found his place at the under the hands of Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia. Donatien had moaned quite loudly when Friedrich Wilhelm’s free hand had groped at one of his backside cheeks while changing the angle that he had pounded into him. “S-Sir-”

“How obedient you are,” the king had grunted, leaning down to lick a stripe up the side of Donatien’s neck, “how _desperate_ you are to get fucked by me, you little slut,” before turning the younger man’s head and claiming his lips in a rough kiss.

Donatien had whimpered into it, his arms trembling where they had struggled to keep him upright. “I wa-want to be a good little slut for you, Sir,” he had whispered, not caring whether he had sounded desperate or not.

Whatever Friedrich Wilhelm had wanted him to be, he would have aspired to be it. The Prussian had growled, “You already are, boy. You already are _my_ slut.”

He had melted after hearing that, had continued to whimper and moan while Friedrich Wilhelm had chased after his own orgasm. It had not taken more than a few more thrusts against his prostate until Donatien had come with a hoarse cry, clenching around the cock inside him and thus pushing the king over the edge as well. A few moments of silence had passed between them, moments during which the French had concentrated on nothing but the feeling of the softening cock and the release it had spilled inside of him. His breath had hitched when Friedrich Wilhelm had pulled out, and Donatien had felt a blush rising into his face when a trickle of cum had left with it. Apparently unable to resist the temptation, the king of Prussia had pushed two fingers into him once again. “Sir!” Donatien’s surprised cry had made Friedrich Wilhelm chuckle.

“I certainly do enjoy fucking you a lot more than I though I would, boy. You are _so very_ responsive to my touches...” He had gotten a bit frightened by the prospect of being forced to cum again so soon after the very much mind-wrecking orgasm he had experienced, but his fear had been in vain. Friedrich Wilhelm had merely done so much as to scissor him once and ghost the tips of his finger over Donatien’s sensitive spot before he had pulled his fingers out with what could have been a satisfied grunt. The young marquis had, after a few seconds of trying to calm his racing heart, moved to push himself onto his feet, and his heart had somersaulted when there had suddenly been a pair of aiding hands on his shoulders. “Come here, boy.”

“S-Sir?” He had been pushed so far into his submissive mindset that he had not even thought about the way that Friedrich Wilhelm had been fully dressed when he had fucked him. Donatien’s knees had been rather weak when he had stood in an upright position once more and he had failed to suppress a gasp when one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s hands had clasped down in his neck and had pulled him forward into a heated kiss. The French had opened his mouth to allow the deft tongue entrance past his lips, his hands coming up almost non-daring to grasp for the king’s upper arms. He had arched against him as Friedrich Wilhelm’s free hand had roamed down the curve of his spine to splay itself over his backside. _He had been claimed._

“You did good, boy.”

“Thank you Sir.” Friedrich Wilhelm had loosened the hold he had on the back of Donatien’s neck and while the look on the Prussian’s face could not have been described as soft, the marquis had known that it had been less disdainful and hateful than anyone else had gotten to see it. His heart had been positively racing when his face had been touched with _gentle_ fingers and if he would not have known better, he would have had a hard time believing that they the man they had belonged to bad been so rough with him just moments ago. Friedrich Wilhelm had not spoken, and so it had been him who had broken the silence. “Sir?” He had went on at the grunt of agreement that had followed. “W-When will you... what you said that you will...”

Donatien had failed to bring it over his lips, having since gone back to his usual, much less lewd self with the aftershocks of his orgasm had ebbed down, but it had been to his luck that the Prussian had caught what he had tried to hint at. “Are you so eager for that, boy? To be shown off and whipped in front an audience?” Before he had really known what he had done, he had hidden his face in the crook of Friedrich Wilhelm’s neck. He had frozen, expecting to be pushed away, but the king of Prussia had merely snorted and patted his backside. “Oh, be assured that I will do that to you once your ass has recovered, boy. Be assured. It will be a sincere punishment, as I doubt that you will be able to behave yourself until then.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Please_ mind the tags for this chapter - don't read it if any of those things might trigger you.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Two weeks had passed since then. Two entire weeks during which Friedrich Wilhelm had come to visit him daily, often even multiple times, had fucked him more times than Donatien had bothered to keep a count of and God, he had _loved_ it. He had no longer wasted a single thought on a possible return to France and whether anyone had found out about the often nightly visits that had taken place in the room that had since become his, he had not cared. It had seemed that the king had cared just as little - Friedrich Wilhelm could not have been so gullible as to believe that the almost friendly way he was treating the French marquis with would spread throughout the court like a wildfire.

It had been Albert, the Saxon ambassador, who had pulled Donatien aside during an evening event to ask him about it. “What did he do to you, Donatien,” Albert had muttered, taking a hasted sip from the glass in his hand as he had looked around the salon as if he had expected to catch a royal eavesdropper nearby.

“Pardon?”

“When you missed the audience. What did he do to you? Did he beat you?”

Donatien had been stunned and he had known that his face had gained color as he had tried to come up with a lie that could have been credible enough. “I-It was a mere smack across my face, nothing that I could not handle. Why... are you asking?”

Albert’s eyes had narrowed, but instead of disbelief it had been concern that Donatien had made out in his gaze. “People are talking.”

He had snorted into his glass, hoping, for the second time, that his pretentious placidity had been believable. “It is what they do, my dear Albert.”

“I worry about you. You are... young and it is known that His Majesty does not shrink from beating everyone within his reach.”

“There is no reason for you to worry, my friend. I am more than fine.” Donatien had indeed been more than fine, he had been absolutely content. The cane marks on his backside had healed exceptionally good and without any scabbing, latter which had mostly been due to the salve that Friedrich Wilhelm had applied onto them daily, and the more his wounds had healed, the more the young marquis had found himself growing impatient as for when he would be taken to the Tabakskollegium.

It had been unmistakable that the king had wanted him to have healed completely - because he, as the Prussian had liked to repeat it all so often, had been no monster despite having acted undeniably cruel at more than just one occasion. Donatien had not minded it, had, in fact, cherished the feeling of certainty that he had been utterly at Friedrich Wilhelm’s mercy and the fact that he had gained the notorious king’s favour had made him want to rub it under everyone’s nose. He could not have done so without risking a scandal, and of course he had not done it. What had scared him, however, and had sobered him up quite a bit had been the moment he had realised that his feelings had gone beyond that of simple submission. _He loved him_.

Oh, it had frightened him greatly when that realisation had washed over him while Friedrich Wilhelm had been busy pounding into him with a ruthless rhythm. He loved him, and oh God, how he had wished that he was loved back. The young frenchman never would have had the audacity to ask, to confess his love and thus risk the engagement that had established between him and the king of Prussia. It had not been the same love that Donatien had felt with his first love, when he had longed to hold hands and whisper sweet words of adorations; his heart had desired to be ordered to kneel at Friedrich Wilhelm’s feet, to feel the rough hand in his hair and to be told what a good little slut he was. He had been careful to not accidentally let it slip past his lips. A beating had not been what he had feared, _dismissal_ had been the greater fear. So he had waited.

Waited for the next one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s vists, waited for the next that he could have attended to and had waited for the evening that he would be taken to the Tabakskollegium. Once the angry cane marks on his backside had faded away, it had become obvious that the king of Prussia had not planned to tell him beforehand. He had wanted him to grow anxious and giddy only to be disappointed when seven o’clock would pass and he would not be summoned. Friedrich Wilhelm had still come to visit him afterwards, had still fucked him into the mattress and had still called him _good little slut_ and _good boy_ , praises for which the young French had lived for, but Donatien had found himself growing more and more impatient. It would have meant something if he would have been taken to the Tabakskollegium, would it not? If Friedrich Wilhelm would show him off as his? That it had been a two-sided sword for him to be known at Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia’s... _male_ _mistress_ had been undeniable. With the political situation that Prussia had been in, the uncertainty and the many strained relations, Donatien would agree to have himself emerged into incredibly hot water.

But oh, he had wanted it, had wanted to establish his place at Friedrich Wilhelm’s feet. Figuratively and literally, at that. So he had waited with as much patience as he only could have mustered and just as he had began to believe that Friedrich Wilhelm had not been serious in his threat, or his offer, Donatien had found himself faced with it rather out of the sudden. He had been bound in a conversation with Albert and two other noblemen in the main salon when he had been approached by one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s guards, who had handed over inconspicuous over to him. The young French marquis had felt the countless pairs of eyes on him as the guard had strode away, and he had clutched the box to his chest as if it could have masked the fact that his heart had been utterly racing in his chest. 

“Donatien?”, Albert’s voice had eventually reached him and he had cleared his throat, hoping that the powder on his face had been enough to cover the blush that had risen into it. “What is... the meaning of this?”

Donatien had not known what to make out of the strange tone that his friend’s voice had taken - he would only later find out that it had not only been concern, but jealousy as well. “I do not know,” he had retorted and had, with a throat clearing, bowed his head. “If you would excuse me.” He had not loosened the hold he had on the box as he had hurried to get out of the salon without attracting any more attention that had already been glued onto him, his heart not calming in its racing on the way to his room. An almost silly grin had grown on his face as he had closed the door of his guest room behind him, had locked it and had kept his gaze on the box while he had crossed the room to put it down onto the small writing desk. It had not been wrapped in any way that might have indicated for it to be a present and so Donatien had not needed to loosen any adamant knots in order to open it. His brows had pulled together in momentarily confusion when he, upon having lifted the top, had looked down at what could have been a piece of clothing. It had taken him a few seconds until he had spotted the folded piece of paper that had laid on top of the fabric, and his heart had soared all over again when he had picked it up and had unfolded it.

There had been no mistaking that it had been the king of Prussia’s handwriting. _It is time for me to show them that you belong to me, boy. Wear it tonight._ The young frenchman had gasped as he had set the note aside to retrieve the piece of clothing from within in the box. His first guess of it having been a shirt had been wrong - it had been a morning robe, the silk it had been tailored from cool to the touch as it had glided through his fingers. It had undoubtedly been an expensive acquisition and the fact that it had been acquired for _him_ had only caused Donatien’s smile to widen into a grin. _Finally!_

After the gift had been given to him during the early afternoon hours, the marquis was barely able to hide his excitement. To pass the hours, he took an extended bath. It would have been a lie if he would have said that he was not nervous. While the prospect of being spanked and possibly fucked in front of an audience was more than just a bit arousing, he was aflutter about what sort of audience it would be. He trusted Friedrich Wilhelm enough to not embarrass him more than he had consented to, as it would have been grievous for the both of them. The Tabakskollegium, which in itself was as notorious as the king himself, stood open to none but Friedrich Wilhelm’s closest friends and military acquaintances and Donation was curious about which one of them desired him as well.

Friedrich Wilhelm mentioned it daily: that there were others who desired to have him, something that apparently did nothing to mitigate the king’s jealousy and possessive behaviour towards him. The bruises on the insides of his thighs acted as proofs of said possessiveness. While the short note had not stated it explicitly, Donatien dressed in nothing _but_ the satin robe and chose to loll on his bed with a book until he would be taken to the Tabakskollegium. That he was unable to concentrate on the written words in front of him was of no surprise to him. His heart leaped up into his throat when he heard the knocking at the door. Friedrich Wilhelm had knocked often enough for Donatien to distinguish it from any other, and he set the book aside when the door was opened without him having granted a permission. _He never waited._ “Are you dressed, boy?”

“Yes Sir.” With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the young frenchman slipped from the bed just as the Prussian came to stand at the foot of it. A shudder went through Donatien’s body at the look he received out of the eyes that could be colder than any he had ever see before, eyes that managed to undress him without loosening the satin belt of the robe he was wearing.

“How do you like my gift, boy? Is it to your liking?”

If it would have been the occasion for it, Donatien would have dropped to his knees to show him just _how_ _much_ he liked it. “I do like it, Sir,” he thus merely said, biting his lip to keep himself from grinning like the love-struck youth he felt like when Friedrich Wilhelm approached him.

“It is what I hoped.” One of the Prussian’ hands found its way into his hair, tugging at the curls with just the right amount of strength to turn the younger man’s knees weak. The marquis was ready to melt there and then, not even trying to keep the whimpering sound from escaping past his lips. “I kept you waiting for long enough, did I not, slut? You are so very eager to be shown off.”

“Yes Sir.” Donatien’s head was tilted back in order for his lips to be captured in a demanding kiss and he merely whimpered, allowing Friedrich Wilhelm’s tongue to broadly dominate over his. It took them a few good moments until they broke apart. The king of Prussia’s voice was laced with its typical growl as he spoke, “They are awaiting us. Or shall I say: they are awaiting you and your pretty little ass, boy.” He had punctuated _pretty little ass_ with a sharp smack to Donatien’s backside, followed by a hard squeeze of the soft cheeks to which the younger man answered with a coquettish gasp.

“Will you tell me who they are, Sir? Those that... want me as well?”

“I could tell you at least ten names, boy,” was spoken into his ear, “but the only one who you ought to remember is Friedrich Wilhelm von Grumbkow.”

Donatien heard of the secretary of war, of course, of the man that many believed to be the only person that the notorious king of Prussia had a friendly relationship with, and he suddenly felt much less eager about the... arrangement. He would only realise later on that it was jealousy that had ruined his mood. “Ah,” was all he answered with before he pressed his lips together and wrapped his arms around himself. Friedrich Wilhelm noticed his apparent displeasure and Donatien felt his cheeks heating up when he was mustered with narrowed eyes. He shifted from foot to foot, unsure what would follow next. The yelp he loud out proved that he he certainly had not expected to be grabbed, whirled around, bent at his waist and tucked underneath Friedrich Wilhelm’s arm within the split of a second. The dozen smacks that landed on his barely protected ass in quick succession left him breath- and speechless and before he really could have proceeded what had taken place, he was in an upright position again with Friedrich Wilhelm holding his face.

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. Why Donatien’s bottom lip wobbled, he did not know. The pain from the few smacks was by far not enough to cause it and something in the Prussian’s gaze softened. Barely noticeably so, but it softened. “I do plan on keeping you as the only one, boy,” Friedrich Wilhelm said, loosening the hold he had on the French’s face, “and it is quite disrespectful of you to assume that I am not. I am a man of honour. ”

“I am sorry Sir, I just...”

The embrace that Donatien was pulled in lasted barely longer than the short-lived punishment had, but he cherished it by pressing his face into the crook of Friedrich Wilhelm’s neck. “I understand your worry, boy.” Donatien pressed his eyes shut and his face further into the side of the Prussian’s neck, the baritone voice as well as the spoken voice caused pinpricks to appear over the length of his spine. “But I can assure you that I only keep one boy at my side.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled and loosened his arms from around the French marquis to put space between them, his eyes burning as he looked at Donatien in a way that was nearly enough to push him into his submissive mindspace. “Come now.”

“Yes Sir.”

He did not struggle when the king of Prussia took him by his arm to lead him out of the room and to the part of the palace that housed the salon that was designated for the Tabakskollegium. Donatien doubted that he had ever been more nervous in his life. The hold that Friedrich Wilhelm had on his arm lacked any of the softness that it had possessed moments ago. It was harsh, _dominating_ and he needed to bite down onto his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering. With the certainty that they had fallen back into their game, he did allow himself to indulge in the side of himself that Friedrich Wilhelm had titled as _bratty_ before by trying to wriggle out of the hold in an utterly futile attempt. The Prussian caught onto it, of course, and grunted as he reached around to smack Donatien’s backside yet again. “Keep doing that and you will be sore before we are even there.”

“I am sorry, Sir.”

“No you are not, boy. Now keep that mouth of yours _shut_.” The young frenchman’s face gained a deeper blush as he made out the muffled sound of laughter and glasses clinking from the end of the corridor that they had entered. Friedrich Wilhelm did not address him again before he threw rather than pushed the door open, pulling him along with him. The laughter died down and oh, Donatien was ready to faint. A good dozen of men were seated at the oval table, tobacco pipes and beer glases in front of them. What did make it a bit easier for him, however, was the fact that he had seen none of them before. They all seemed... similar to Friedrich Wilhelm in a way that he had not expected it. If he were to judge by the looks in their eyes again, Donatien would have said that they had been cut from the same stone as Friedrich Wilhelm’s. None of them seemed disgusted by his appearance, and he would have trusted every one of them to beat him, or anyone else at that matter, within an instant. The few seconds that he and Friedrich Wilhelm stood at the head of the table seemed to drag into eternity.

“This is him,” the king of Prussia eventually said, grinning it a way that caused all of his teeth to show and while Donatien had since grown familiar with the predatory that laced it, it still send a shiver through him. Friedrich Wilhelm had since let go of his arm to grab a fistful of his curls again. “The little _slut_ that dropped onto his knees for me.” Roaring laughter broke out from the men that were sitting at the table, a sound that confirmed Donatien’s first impression: they were all too similar to Friedrich Wilhelm. One of them caught his eyes. He was seated at the very front of the table, a pipe in one hand while he held the other over his crotch in an obscene, unmistakably _lewd_ gesture. Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled beside him upon having noticed that he was staring at said man, and Donatien felt the king’s free hand in the small of his back as if to remind him who had the upper hand on him. “Grumbkow.”

“Your Majesty.” The man - Grumbkow’s gaze shifted from the French to the Prussian. Out of the corner of his eye, Donatien was able to see that Friedrich Wilhelm nodded at his minister of war. “How old is he, Your Majesty?”, someone asked. Donatien did not bother to look who of the men it had been.

“Nineteen.”

“Fresh meat then.”

While some believed it funny, the snarl that Friedrich Wilhelm answered with sobered them within an instant. “You ought to pay him the respect that he is due!”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I sincerely apologise.”

Whether the king of Prussia had noticed how he had flinched at the implication of _fresh meat_ , he did not know. The tension that had formed at the rectification dissolved when Donatien was suddenly spun around. “But my little slut does have a particularly nice ass.” _E_ _veryone_ in the room, except the young marquis, chuckled at Friedrich Wilhelm’s comment and Donatien shifted his weight from leg to leg as the back of his satin robe was lifted with a teasing slowness to reveal his naked backside. “As you can see, his was unable to behave himself until I brought him here.” 

He clung onto the arm that was wrapped around his back, to keep him in place, while his backside continued to be presented. “It suits him well, Your Majesty,” Grumbkow, Donatien recognised the voice as Grumbkow’s, said, and further heat shot into the young French’s face when one of his backside cheeks was patted.

“You yet have to see it red, Grumbkow. It suits him even better and I will show you just how great my favourite slut wears it.” Donatien was utterly, _utterly_ glad that it was his exposed ass rather than his face that was turned towards the audience, for the latter was burning so brightly that he feared to grow nauseous. _Oh God_. “Bend over the chair, boy. It is time for your punishment. Come on, do not make me ask you again.” Donatien only then noticed the armless chair that stood a few feet away from him. Its back and seat were covered with unusually thick padding, making him wonder whether it had been made for the sole purpose of someone bending over it - especially since the back of the chair was at the right height of one’s waist. “I almost forgot,” the king of Prussia chuckled after he had positioned Donatien in front of the chair, and the gasp that the French let out when the robe was nearly torn off his shoulders earned him the approval of those that were watching and _preying_ on him.

He obeyed. His knees felt weak and his heart raced due to the embarrassment, but he obeyed. The hand on his back and the _good boy_ Donatien received for his obedience made it worth it. Donatien no longer wondered whether the chair may have been made for the purpose of someone bending over its back - he had known that it had been made for it the very second that he had bend over. Since he had no other choice than to plant his forearms on the padded seat of the chair for, his legs spread on their own accord and revealed more of himself than he had expected. Oh, he was blushing terribly as he felt Friedrich Wilhelm’s hands nudging his legs apart even wider. His back was already arched due to the unnatural position and so it was not only his scrotum that every single man in the room could gape at, but his puckered hole as well. The only thing that he could hide was his face. _Oh God._ He crossed his arms and pressed his face into them with a hitch of his breath, certain that he had never been more embarrassed. Neither had he ever been more aroused than when he felt one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s hands slowly following the curving of his back.

“Are you comfortable, boy?”

“Yes Sir.”

The hand on his back moved to his hair to stroke it once, tearing a little whine out of the young Frenchman. The other nobleman joined the king of Prussia in his chuckling. “I am training him well, am I not?”

“Since when is he yours, Your Majesty?” Grumbkow again.

Donatien began to realise that Friedrich Wilhelm had been right: it was unmistakable that he was desired by the other Prussian and the fact that Friedrich Wilhelm _knew_ about it and had apparently decided to play along with it was a more than a small surprise. “About two weeks. But the little slut still did not internalised my rules yet and so I am required to punish him _over_ and _over_ again.” The king of Prussia punctuated his words with a sharp smack to each of Donatien’s backside cheeks, making the younger man gasp out of surprise and the room fall strangely silent. Since he was bend over the chair, he could not have seen how the grins had vanished from the spectators’ faces. “Do I not need to punish you, boy?” The question was accompanied by two, just as sharp hits.

“You need to, Sir.”

“Of course I do.” Friedrich Wilhelm repeated the action of smacking him before he left his side. Donatien did not dare to turn his head in order to find out what the Prussian was doing and so he was doomed to let his imagination come up with a possibility about what the sound of Friedrich Wilhelm’s footfalls could mean for him. A drawer was opened and closed in quick suggestion. If something had been taken out and put on the table, Donatien had not heard it. While he knew that he was not allowed to do it he impatiently shifted his weight from foot to foot, a motion which, given his position, caused his hips to sway obscenely and earned him an even harder hit. That Friedrich Wilhelm could always hit him harder was no longer of any surprise. “Behave yourself!”

“I am sorry Sir.”

“No you are not, slut.” Other than before, Friedrich Wilhelm’s comment triggered no roaring laughter or amused snorts. Donatien failed to hear the few gasps over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The king of Prussia positioned himself at his left side to put his left hand in the small of Donatien’s back and the right onto the frenchman’s upturned backside. In a way, Donatien was rather glad when the fist _real_ smack landed on his already tingling skin and announced the beginning of his punishment. The waiting had been terrible, or so he had thought before Friedrich Wilhelm had begun to spank him with more than just his hand. As hard as his hand was, the young marquis would not have been surprised if a paddle would not have felt any harder.

The king of Prussia soon fell into a rhythm of landing smack after smack in a rapid succession. It was both, a blessing and a curse, that Friedrich Wilhelm knew so very well what he was doing. Every single hit seemed to land exactly where it was supposed to and so it did not take longer than two minutes until Donatien’s backside, from the very top down to his sit spots, throbbed in unison. It was then that Friedrich Wilhelm began speaking. Not to him, but to the audience, and only after landing an especially nasty hit onto the top of his thigh. “Other than you do it,” the king of Prussia began, not faltering a bit in his punishing rhythm, “when you spank someone who’s not as much as an eager slut for it as mine is, you ought to make sure that you work on their entire ass and not just the spots that hurt the most.” To underline what he had said, Friedrich Wilhelm placed the following four smacks onto Donatien’s sit spots, who let out a high-pitched whine at the burning sting. He dug his teeth harder into his bottom lip and pressed his face impossibly further into his arms when Friedrich Wilhelm began yet another round of punishing hits. “Is he not beautiful?” A wave of approving sounds came as an answer. “Now, what do you say to that, boy? Must I remind you of your manners again?”

The hand came crashing down onto his ass with more vigor at again, and Donatien’s head shot up as he answered with a whispered, “Thank you.”

“Louder, boy!”

“T-Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Tha-ank you, Sir.” He dropped his head again, hiding his face in his crossed arms. He had no idea how long the spanking would turn out to be, but since if was indeed a punishment he knew very well that he would be incredibly sore once it would come to an end.

Friedrich Wilhelm’s arm never seemed to tire. The Prussian talked on about “How much naughly little slut deserve to be punished” and “How strict one has to be in order to get their slut under control”, but Donatien listened rather half-heartedly to it. The lecture was not meant for him in the first place - or so he had thought until Friedrich Wilhelm suddenly addressed him. “What do you say, boy?” He whimpered, quickly shifted his weight from one foot to another and pressed his lips together in a futile hope that he could go without answering. It was not accepted, of course. “I asked you a question, boy,” the Prussian repeated with a snarl, smacking him twice across both cheeks. Donatien whimpered again.

“I-I...”

“ _You did not listen_.” It was no question, and so he tried to keep his lips pressed together as Friedrich Wilhelm huffed and increased the strength that he was raining the smacks down with. The onslaught stopped after another dozen hits had landed on the marquis’ already sore ass, the last two of them tearing the first yelp out of Donatien. “I believe it is time for the next part if I am hitting you so softly that you are not listening, boy.”

“I-I am sorry Sir.”

“What am I to do with you...”

Before dread could have gripped at his heart, Friedrich Wilhelm chuckled quite darkly and Donatien froze when he heard the tale-telling _clink_ of a belt buckle. “S-Sir-”

“Back down, boy!” Not having noticed that he had pushed himself up onto his hands, Donatien hurried to take his position again. “You deserve to get a good belting you disrespectful, spoiled little slut.”

“I am sorry Sir.”

 _Whack!_ The first lash of the leather strap against his naked skin took him by surprise. Donatien had a vague memory of his father having whipped him with a belt before, but from what he could remember the pain had not even been near as overwhelming. He cried out, kicked one leg up and repeated it, with the other leg, when a second burning stripe landed underneath the first one. _Thwack!_ “If you use the belt,” the king of Prussia stated, moving to stand a bit further to Donatien’s side, “it is better if you use a broad one as the edges can easily cut the skin of the ass.” _Smack!_ “And other than the marks of the cane, those of the belt tend to leave scars.” _Whack!_ “You may ask my son, he is wearing plenty of those scars.” _Thwack!_ Donatien was no longer able to keep himself from crying out with every impact of the wicked leather implement. Sure, having been the subject of Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia’s unshared attention had somewhat hardened him up but oh, it hurt badly. _Thwick!_ The next lash hit him over his sit spots, making him buck, cry out and stomp his feet. “Your manners, boy!”

Donatien’s eyes had been burning ever since Friedrich Wilhelm had increased the strength that he had spanked him with his hand, but the first twin set of tears only escaped him at the second hit across his sit spots. He tried to not let them be audible. Friedrich Wilhelm continued to whip the belt down in a fast, unforgiving rhythm without much talking. _Thwick!_ _Whack!_ _Smack!_ _Thwack!_ “Even though it is not a particularly harsh implement,” the king of Prussia went on, “it is enough to chide a naughty boy in no time.” Donatien should have known that it had not been a good idea to try and keep the tears silence ones. It not only made him feel as if his chest was about to burst open - the fact that he apparently had not been pushed to tears also spurred Friedrich Wilhelm on to hit him even harder. Donatien eventually pressed both of his hands over his mouth in order to keep silent, his entire body tensing from the strength that it took him and it was then that the Prussian noticed.

The belt stopped in mid-air. “Boy?” He did not answer. He was not able to. The hand that touched his back was a gentle one and Donatien’s breathing became more cut-off where he forced it out of his nose. He had wanted to make Friedrich Wilhelm proud, as he felt quite foolish for having managed to hold his tears back for longer when he had been caned a fortnite ago. It broke out of him when Friedrich Wilhelm, upon having moved around the chair, forced his hands away from his mouth and pressed a quick kiss into his curls. “Silly boy,” Friedrich Wilhelm clicked his tongue, “I am not expecting you to stay quiet.”

While there was a scolding undertone lacing those words, they were very gentle. “S-Sir-”

“Twenty more with the belt, alright boy?” Donatien wanted to answer, he really did, but all that left him were deep, shaking sobs. Friedrich Wilhelm did not insist on getting him to speak before he moved away.

“Your Majesty.” Grumbkow. The man’s voice was rough, arousal so thick in it that even Donatien noticed it in his _situation_.

“Yes.”

“Does he... always take so much?”

Friedrich Wilhelm’s laughter had been a honest one. “It is far from much, Grumbkow. Wait until he takes the cane, I have never seen anyone other than my boy who takes it so well.”

“O-Oh.” He was still crying, but his sobs grew to be less forceful at the praise he received. It had, after all, not only been the pain that had caused them to build up in the first place.

“Yes _oh_ , boy,” the king of Prussia snorted, patting one of Donatien’s sore backside cheeks. “I know that you will take it very well.”

“Ye-es Sir.” _Thwack!_ While Friedrich Wilhelm put down the remaining twenty lashes just as fast as he had done it with the prior ones, he no longer used what could have been the entity of his strength when he had thought that he had been forced break the young marquis first. It still hurt, of course, but Donatien tried to minimise the movements of his lower body. He was no longer scolded for kicking his legs up, an act of leniency from Friedrich Wilhelm. The sound of the belt hitting naked skin and Donatien crying out in response filled out the room, only interrupted by a grunt from the king or a moan from one of the spectators. The frenchman did not try to keep a count of how many times he was hit, merely continued to kick his legs and cry into the crook of his arm.

When the hand on his back reappeared, he was assured that at least the whipping was over with. “You are doing good, boy.”

Donatien drew in a desperate breath, “Tha-ank you Si-ir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand wandered up his back to comb through his hair. “I would not be forced to do this if you would remember to behave yourself, boy. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh.” The frenchman corrected himself before he could have earned a rebuke or a smack. “Ye-es Sir.”

“Good boy.” If Donatien would have had the strength in him, and if he would have been allowed to raise onto his hands to look over his shoulder at those that had been granted the privilege of watching his punishment, he would have seen how _every_ man had a hand cupped over their crotches - including Friedrich Wilhelm. It could have been a good minute that passed in wordless silence until the king of Prussia decided to continue the scene by moving away from Donatien’s side once again. To put down the belt and to pick up the cane he had chosen. Or so Donatien thought. “While he is being a good boy in this moment,” the Prussian said, “he was a very naughty one for the majority of this week.” Dark chuckling came up at Friedrich Wilhelm’s comment, and the youngest one on the room trembled where he was as good as melted over the back of the chair. “Were you not?”

Mewling quite pathetically, he sniffled and wiped at his face. “Yes Sir.”

Friedrich Wilhelm hummed in agreement as he approached Donatien. “What I am about to show you works miracles with boys who cannot remember under whose rules they have to live after.”

“Your Majesty is right,” one of the men said, “I punished mine with it and he has been well-behaved ever since.”

“Do you hear that, boy? I sure do hope that you will be good after this.”

“Y-Yes Sir.” Donatien had expected to feel the thin rod against his skin and he thus gasped in surprise when Friedrich Wilhelm came to stand behind him to spread his cheeks apart with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. Something was pressed against his puckered muscle - by far too small to be the head of Friedrich Wilhelm’s cock and too smooth for the tip of a finger. Donatien moved his hips in confusion, making the man behind him chuckle.

“You will not be so eager for much longer.”

He gasped when _the thing_ was pushed into him. It was barely wider that two of Friedrich Wilhelm’s fingers, so something that he would have been more than able to take, and he let out a sound of confusion when it began to burn after the widest part of the plug had been guided in. The burning did not cease - it only got worse when he involuntarily clenched around whatever had been pushed into him and it steadily increased! He threw a surprised, and not-so-subtile imploring look over his shoulder. When it was met with one of Friedrich Wilhelm’s predatory grins, it began to dawn on him that it was _suppose_ d to burn. “S-Sir-”

“You are beginning to feel it, I believe?”

“What-” He was cut off with a smack which spread over both of his cheeks - and pushed the burning plug further into his clenching hole. Donatien cried out, digging his fingers into the seat of the chair while the burn spread out further.

“A simple ginger root can be so effective. Would you not agree, boy?”

 _Oh, it was horrible!_ “Ple-ease, Sir. _Please_.”

His face had since gained a dark shade of red, fuelled by a mixture of pain, embarrassment and arousal and he pressed it into his folded arms when the cane was then tapped against his throbbing ass. “See? It already has you begging like the naughty little slut you are.” Donatien merely continued to sob. The pain in his backside was utterly horrible, both due to the whipping _and_ the ginger. He had underestimated just how bad of a punishment he had been condemned to face. The cane tapped twice against his upturned backside. “How many lashes do you think you deserve to get, boy? Twenty? Thirty?”

He was very well aware of the fact that it had not been an honest question. “I-I do not kno-ow Sir,” the young marquis thus sobbed, trying to force his body to not clench about the truly evil root.

“What do you say?” Friedrich Wilhelm turned around to look around the circle of his most trusted men, his eyes coming to linger on Grumbkow for a moment too long.

“I would tend towards twenty, Your Majesty.”

“Is that so?” Donatien could not help but flinch when the cane was tapped down again.

“Given the state of his backside, Your Majesty... more than twenty will cause his skin to break, even if you are using a thicker cane.”

Donatien could not see how Friedrich Wilhelm nodded at Grumbkow’s answer. “See, boy? I told you that I am not the only one that is concerned about the state of your lovely little ass.” Considering that Friedrich Wilhelm was usually as possessive of him as he probably only could have been, the king’s behaviour towards Grumbkow confused him greatly but with the burning pain in more than one part of his body, he did not really manage to think about it too much. “Twenty does sound like an appropriate number, Grumbkow.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 _Thwick!_ Donatien felt the difference between the cane that he was being hit with then and the cane that had marked him for more than a week from the very first hit on. The cane that Friedrich Wilhelm used was thicker, less flexible and thus left behind a burn that was closer to that of a belt while the cane that he had been punished with a fortnite ago had been rather whippy and thin enough to cut his skin. They both hurt terribly, of course, and since each impact of the cane against his ass made him clench around the ginger, his situation grew more and more desperate. Compared to the caning that he had received for having forgotten about the audience suddenly seemed to have been so much more bearable. He had already been hit with Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand, his belt and now with the cane - it was too much for him to withstand.

Donatien was crying heavy sobs by the time that Friedrich Wilhelm brough the cane down for the tenth hit and he had since buried his hands in his hair, clasping at it to find a way to ground himself. The hand on his back returned, a touch so very small and while it would have made his heart soar at another occasion, it then only worsened his composure. There was no mistaking in the fact that he had disappointed Friedrich Wilhelm with his most recent behaviour and the sudden fear of dismissal returned to take hostage of his chest. “I-I-I’m so-sorry Si-ir,” he sobbed, barely registering the ten lines of fire that had risen on his utterly sore skin, “I-I’ll be go-od, I’ll b-be go-od, _I’llbego-odI-I-pro-omisetha-at’llbego-od_.” If he would not have been sobbing so harsly, he would have heard how a chair was pushed back and Grumbkow stood to walk over to them and whisper something to Friedrich Wilhelm. “Ple-ease do-on’t dis-dismi-iss me-e, I-I-I-”

“Out, everybody out!”

The room seemed to gave emptied within a handful of seconds, but Donatien did not perceived it either. “ _P-Ple-ease Si-ir._ ” Friedrich Wilhelm mutteres something under his breath that he did not understand, and before he could have understood that his punishment was over with, the makeshift plug was pulled out of him and he found himself wrapped into a pair of strong arms. “I’m s-so-orry.”

Donatien grasped onto the back of Friedrich Wilhelm’s waistcoat as if it was a lifeline. It was nothing less to him right then. Friedrich Wilhelm tightened his embrace and cupped one of his hands against the back of the young marquis’ head, guiding his face into the crook of his neck. “It is me who is sorry,” the Prussian whispered. That he would ever hear Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia _whisper_ with a broken voice was not something that Donatien had ever expected to hear. “I should have noticed that it was too much for you, boy. I am sorry.”

He did not answer, merely squeezed his eyes shut as his body was shook from the force of his cries and the waves of the unbearable pain. His cock had since gone flaccid - it was too much for him. “A-Are you go-oing to di-dismi-iss m-me, Si-ir?”

The arms around him tightened yet again. “Of course not, you silly boy. Of course not.” Friedrich Wilhelm whispered the next part against his temple, “I would never dismiss you, Donatien. I have grown too fond of you.”

The words were followed by a lingering kiss to the spot that the king had spoken against and Donatien felt such a heavy burden being lifted off his shoulders that he broke into an entirely new swell of tears. “I-I’ll be go-od, Sir.”

“I know that you will, boy, Hush now, it is quite alright.”

“Where shall I put the cane?” It would have been a lie if he would have said that he _had_ noticed Grumbkow’s presence before the man spoke and he reacted to it by pressing himself against Friedrich Wilhelm. He would not have been able to explain his reaction.

“I do not care, just... put it away somewhere.”

“Of course.”

Donatien barely followed how Grumbkow moved to pick up the cane from where Friedrich Wilhelm had carelessly discarded it onto the floor, simply trying to press himself as close to the Prussian as he only could have done it, his body trembling despite the soothing hand that was moving over his back in continuous circles. “I should have known that it was too much.” Whether Friedrich Wilhelm had said merely muttered the words to himself or had directed them at him, Donatien did not know, and so he did not try to answer.

“I wonder how he managed to stay quiet for such a long time...”

“He was trying to make me proud.” The soaring of his heart was so intense that it caused him to flinch in Friedrich Wilhelm’s arms. Was it so obvious? Oh, how embarrassing! He gasped and was about to hide his face even more when he was addressed. “Look at me, boy.” It was an unmistakable order, but the king of Prussia’s voice was as soft as it had been minutes ago. “Come on, look at me.” Donatien whimpered and obeyed, slowly raising his head but keeping his gaze firmly casted downwards. He was too ashamed to look up at Friedrich Wilhelm’s face, and he thus closed his eyes when he felt a hand coming up to take him by the chin in order to tilt his head back. Neither he nor the Prussian spoke for few good moments. Friedrich Wilhelm wiped at the young French’s tear-streaked face, wordlessly taking in blushed cheeks, the puffy and swollen eyes and the bottom lip that the marquis had wounded by biting onto it too harshly. Donatien failed to keep himself from gasping when he was kissed. Onto his forehead, then onto his cheek and finally onto his lips. There was no heat behind the kiss, only comfort and reassurance and the tears that rose into his eyes when he was pulled into another embrace were those of relief. “Would you get his robe, Wilhelm?”

“Yes, of course.”

The cool fabric of the satin robe touched Donatien’s shoulders no more than a a handful of seconds later. He sniffled when he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the robes - with Friedrich Wilhelm’s help. It was also the Prussian who closed the belt of the robe around him. “Come, I shall bring you to my room.”

“S-Sir...”

“What is it, boy?”

“You-You never took me to yo-our room,” Donatien hiccuped, hurrying to wipe the fresh tears off his face while trying to regain at least a bit of his composure. “Sir.” He did not know what he would have liked to do the most: to retreat to the solitude of his own room, crawl under the covers and try to heal his wounds or to linger in Friedrich Wilhelm’s arms. It was a choice that was eventually taken out of his hands, figuratively speaking, when Friedrich Wilhelm wrapped an arm around his waist and began to lead him towards the door of the servant’s passage. “Sir-”

“Hush, boy.” He obeyed to the once more gently spoken order, whatever defiance he could have possessed at some point had been positively beaten out of him... and if he would have been honest, being by himself would have broken his heart. His ass and the backs of his thighs felt as if someone had burned it with a torch. Grumbkow followed after them as if it was the most usual thing. Donatien did not bother to exclaim his wonder about it; he had since realised that the two Prussians were much closer than he had expected them to be but he was far too exhausted to wonder what it could possibly mean for him. “Come, boy,” Friedrich Wilhelm muttered once they reached the royal chambers, “come one, you ought to lay down.”

“Ye-es Sir.”

Donatien did not struggle when he was lead over to Friedrich Wilhelm’s bed and him laying down was more of a controlled fall than anything else. “Good boy.” A kiss was pressed into his hair and he whimpered when the back of the robe was flipped up to reveal his backside, though falling silent once he noticed how much better the cool air felt against his sore skin. Exhausted from the crying and the strain of the pain, Donatien failed to keep his eyelids from growing heavy rather fast. He fell asleep to the sound of Friedrich Wilhelm and Grumbkow talking to each other with low voices, a murmuring sound that only made him feel even more tired and so he did not perceive how someone sat down on each side of his bed.

One hand moved to his hair, combing through his messed-up curls with gentle and ever-repeating movements while another ran, just as gently, up and down the back of one of his legs. When he woke up not even half an hour later, the hands were still there and he tensed involuntarily from the realisation that they could not have been both of Friedrich Wilhelm’s hands. The hand on his leg disappeared when his tension became noticeable. “There you are,” the king of Prussia purred, chuckling as he used his hold on Donatien’s hair to tilt the marquis’ head until he could kiss him. Notwithstanding the short nap, the young frenchman felt considerably better. Apart from his backside, of course, and Friedrich Wilhelm continued to kiss him as he moved his lips in compliance. “You were very good, boy. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

A curl was brushed away from his forehead, “Wilhelm loved it as well.”

Donatien’s heart somersaulted, both from the words and the fact that they had been whispered into the air next to his ear, and he almost whirled around to look at the man that was sitting to his left. Heat rose into his face at the way that Friedrich Wilhelm von Grumbkow smiled down at him. “B-But... Sir...”

“He is my most trusted friend, Donatien.” While it seemed that Friedrich Wilhelm believed his answer to resolve any confusion, the frenchman understood even less. “I-” He was kissed again before he could have finished speaking and he whimpered when a deft tongue claimed its way past his lips. “Would you be opposed to... be shared between us? You will still be my boy, of course, but Wilhelm here is the one that I am willing to share my _slut_ with.” _Oh good God!_ Donatien knew that the sound he let out at the suggestion had been a shamelessly lewd one, but he could not have helped himself. To hear such thing out of Friedrich Wilhelm’s mouth! There was no use in lying about the fact that Grumbkow was a very attractive man, just as virile and dominant as the king of Prussia himself. A quick kiss was placed onto his lips. “So,” Friedrich Wilhelm nearly whispered, “what do you say, boy?” Donatien gave his answer by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and looking up at the older man with doe-like eyes. “ _Slut._ ” He had never seen Friedrich Wilhelm undressing himself so fast, and his cock came to life as he watched him with lewd eyes. “Get into position, boy. I will not ask you again.

“Yes Sir.”

Donatien climbed off the bed, uttermost careful of not putting any sort of pressure onto his ass, but when he moved to drop to his knees in front of Friedrich Wilhelm, he was caught by a hard hand around his throat. The moan that followed came from the other side of the bed, where Grumbkow was trying to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. “Oh no, you little slut. You will get back on the bed, on your hands and knees, and if you show Wilhelm what your pretty little throat can take, I will fuck you as hard as I know that you like it.” _Oh God!_ As embarrassing as it may have been, Donatien’s knees turned rather weak when he turned back towards the bed and caught a sight of Grumbkow lazily stroking his hardening cock. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a light smack against his backside and squeaked as he hurried to get back onto the bed.

His ass was still throbbing from the attention that it had received earlier and Donatien made sure to not put any strain on it as he moved. Given the height of Friedrich Wilhelm’s bed, he needed to lower himself onto his forearms to have Grumbkow’s cock in front of him and his face gained a dark pink blush when the two Prussians chuckled. With his own arousal rising, Donatien decided to try and take the upper hand in the situation that was evolving between them. Quite literally. Grumbkow’s laughter caught in his throat when Donatien took his cock by its base, shuffled closer and licked a stripe along its underside without saying a single word. A broken moan rippled from the older man’s throat and Donatien hummed when a strong hand grabbed a handful of his curls. Behind him, Friedrich Wilhelm grunted. “What shall I address you as?”, the young French muttered, tapping the head of Grumbkow’s cock against his lips and batting his eyelashes as he gazed up at him. He was enjoying this. More than he probably should have done it, considering that he barely knew the man whose cock he was about to take into his mouth.

“You already know how you have to address those that are fucking you, boy,” Friedrich Wilhelm pressed out through his teeth and Donatien was able to hear just how arroused he was. He gave his hips a playful wiggle, gasping at the quite harsh smack he received for it.

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy.” The praise was all he needed, the pinpricks of arousal that it caused to appear along his spine gave him the required push to lean over, close his lips around the already leaking tip of Grumbkow’s cock and take the length of it into his throat with a single, deteminated move of his head. The man above him grunted, gasped and tugged at his hair hard enough for it to hurt. “He is good, is he not?”

“God yes he is.”

“You can fuck his throat, Wilhelm. He will take it.” Donatien hummed in agreement, hollowing his cheeks and pulling back with a teasing slowness until only the head remainded past his lips before swallowing the entire length again. He swirled his tongue around the pulsing cock, breathing through his nose to prevent any gagging. “Good boy.” The mattress behind him dipped under Friedrich Wilhelm’s weight and the young marquis let out a strangled sound when two hands cupped his sore backside cheeks and spread them apart. “You are quite sore there, are you not, boy?”, the king of Prussia asked him as he kneaded the sore cheeks, forcing Donatien to pull off in order to whimper and look over his shoulder. A shudder moved through him when Friedrich Wilhelm brushed his thumb over his puckered opening. “There too I believe.”

“Yes Sir,” Donatien dutifully answered with a gasp - the ginger had left his usually already sensitive skin nearly painfully tender. When it became clear that Friedrich Wilhelm would not remove him finger, Donatien shifted his attentiton back towards the cock in his hand and swallowed it again. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they eventually fluttered shut when two oil-slick fingers were pushed into him. It burned, it stung, and Donatien forced his muscle to relax as the fingers began to fuck him in earnest. Grumbkow was panting above him, tugging at his curls and thrusting his cock even deeper into his throat as he tried to do his best. _“_ _If you show Wilhelm what your pretty little throat can take, I will fuck you as hard as I know that you like it.”_

He had already been deep-throating Grumbkow’s cock when he was thrusted forwards by an almost evil combination of Friedrich Wilhelm hitting one of his backside cheeks and pressing his fingers down onto his sensitive spot at the same time. Donatien gagged, but when he wanted to pull off, Grumbkow kept him in place with the grip on his hair. _Oh God._ “That is it, boy. Take it like a good little slut.” He whined around the cock in his mouth; no matter how many time he would be tolk the exact same praise... he would never grow tired of hearing it. Friedrich Wilhelm answered to his whine by pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades and adding a third finger into him. Donatien was rocking back and forth - back onto Friedrich Wilhelm’s fingers and forth onto Grumbkow’s cock. He stopped in his motion when the fingers were pulled out of him with a squelch and were replaced with the head of Friedrich Wilhelm’s cock.

Grumbkow loosened the hold on Donatien’s hair to allow him to pull off as Friedrich Wilhelm entered him with a swift thrust. He moaned and, for a few seconds, lowered his head onto the mattress to concentrate in not coming at the very moment that the older man was fully seated inside of him. “Sir, oh-”

“Yes you like that, do you not?”, Friedrich Wilhelm said with a breathless chuckle, his fingers digging into the flesh of Donatien’s hips, hard enough to surely leave bruises behind.

“Yes Sir, oh yes I do.”

The two Prussian shared a laugh and Grumbkow grabbed the young marquis’s face to push his cock past Donatien’s lips again before Friedrich Wilhelm began to thrust into him. He no longer had to do anything other than allow himself to be fucked by the two men. It was no surprise that none of them were destined to last for long and it was Grumbkow who came first, spurting his release into the heat of Donatien’s mouth who swallowed it all before allowing the cock to slip from his lips. Friedrich Wilhelm had since fallen into a mantra of “That is it, boy, that is it” while concentrating on hitting the frenchman’s sensitive spot with every individual thrust, an effort which was commented with high-pitched moans and gasps. Donatien’s eyes flew open when Grumbkow took his face into his hands to caress his cheeks.

“You did good,” Grumbkow whispered, “thank you, Donatien.” The older man kissed him, so _gently_ that it stunned him and Donatien kissed him back. He had no idea what it meant, that Grumbkow was kissing him and that Friedrich Wilhelm aparently did not have a problem with it, but he already decided the he would play along with it.

When one of the king of Prussia’s hands sneaked around to start stroking his neglected cock, he came undone with a cry that Grumbkow swallowed with another kiss. It took a few more thrusts until Friedrich Wilhelm’s hips sputtered and he came with a low-throated moan, squeezing the flesh of Donatien’s ass. None of them spoke in the following few moments. Friedrich Wilhelm pulled his softening cock out and pressed a quick kiss into the small of Donatien’s back before he stood from the bed. Grumbkow continued to kiss the young marquis for a while longer, the two of them engaging into a small battle of their tongue which Donatien eagerly lost.

“Am I useless now?”

Surprised that there was a clear hint of uncertainty in the king of Prussia’s voice, Donatien gasped and moved around on the bed as quick as he only could have done it. “N-No, Sir, you will never-”

Before his heart could have gripped by the cold hand of fear Friedrich Wilhelm grabbed him, pulled him off the bed and wrapped his arms around him while claiming his lips in a breathtaking kiss. “I love you.” The words had slipped out before he could have stopped them and he froze, expecting to be snarled at, beaten and thrown out of the room. His fear was in vain.

Friedrich Wilhelm did not lift his head from where he had peppered the side of Donatien’s neck with kisses, and the younger man blushed when he felt the Prussian smiling against his skin. “I already told you that I have grown too fond of you, boy.”

“S-Sir?”

“What would you say if... Wilhelm would find a position for you that would require you to stay in Prussia for... let us say... at least the next two years?”

“I...”

“And if you reserve the _Sire_ s for situations like these?”

“But...” Donatien trailed off, his wide eyes looking up at Friedrich Wilhelm while his heart was busy doing one somersault after another. He surely did not mean it, did he? Friedrich Wilhelm’s eyes appeared softer than Donatien had ever seen them before, so much was certain. He drew in a deep breat, “I accept.” The king of Prussia _laughed_ and drew him into an embrace.

“I believe that I should-”

“You shall stay, Wilhelm.”

Grumbow had just slipped into his shirt and he did appear quite surprised when Friedrich Wilhelm addressed him. Donatien looked at Friedrich Wilhelm before he wriggled out of the embrace to climb back onto the bed, still undressed as he was. Both Prussians watched him how he laid down - onto his stomach, of course, slipped underneath the covers sighed in content. “Will you join me or do you want to stand by and watch me fall asleep?” Donatien was flanked by two warm bodies a few seconds later, with Friedrich Wilhelm’s hand caressing his hair and Grumbkow’s fingers following the knobs of his spine.

 _Fin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that I won't write any more porn for a few days/weeks as this was _heavy_ :-D


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